Scars and Memories
by Dusty
Summary: Jack (or should I say Francis) meets someone interesting in the Refuge (Format fixed!)


Disclaimer: All characters (actually CHARACTER) belong to Disney, yadda yadda yadda I don't think they care. Roach belongs to me and if you steal her I will hunt you down and kill your family. Or something like that. I might even yell at you. You never know. I'm unpredictable.  
  
Feedback is more than welcome, but keep in mind, this is my first fan fic and I wrote it at 2 o'clock in the morning. Be gentle :)  
  
// indicate thoughts//  
* indicate emphasis *  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is still the same story I posted a long time ago, but I went back and re-read it today (I was bored) and I noticed some spelling mistakes and typos. I'm really neurotic, so I had to fix them or I wouldn't have been able to sleep tonight.  
  
Scars and Memories  
by Dusty  
  
  
My eyes snapped open and I awoke with a start. I looked around me in confusion for a split second before the pain hit. A dull, pounding ache in my head occupied most of my attention, so it was a minute or two before I noticed an odd, stiff feeling on the left side of my face. I brought my hand up and ran it down my face. It was like the seam of a skirt, and it started half way down my forehead and ran all the way down to about two inches below my eye. Stitches. Great. I ran my hand down the seam in my face again. It was creepy, but I couldn't stop touching it. //Stitches? What the hell happened?// I thought.  
  
Suddenly, the memories came flooding back. I groaned as I lay back on the hard little cot, recalling the events of the past few days. I'd been wandering around Midtown for the past week or so, begging for money so I could eat. By the time my birthday rolled around, I decided that I was sick of barely eating enough to survive, so I was going to give myself a feast for a present. So I set out on a mission to steal as much food as humanly possible that day. Well, unfortunately for me, I'm a lousy thief. I was walking along, not even intent on starting the thievery yet, when I saw my first chance. A little old lady set a pie on her window sill to cool. //This is too easy,// I thought. //I thought stuff like this only happens in books.// Apparently, you only get away with stuff like this in books, cuz the minute I snatched that pie, that old biddy started shrieking like a banshee and the next thing I know, I'm face down on the ground, covered in apple pie, with two cops standing over me.  
  
I was immediately thrown in the Refuge, of course. I spent the next few days cursing my stupidity and clumsiness. I kept to myself. I'm a moody gal, so it's not good to disturb my self-punishment sessions. Unfortunately for all involved, the other kids in the room with me didn't know this. On my third day one of them, Olga I think her name was, took it upon herself to "welcome" me to the group. She wanted me to know that she was top dog around the place and that if I expected to survive my little visit here, I better respect her authority. So basically, she was a bossy cow who thought she was tough shit. Not being happy at having my train of thought interrupted, I told her to shove it sideways. So, of course, this huge brawl broke out. I've been living on the streets for most of my life, so I'm a scrappy fighter. Olga was a big girl and it hurt to get hit by her, but it was like fighting a windmill. She was flailing all over the place. I just kept myself tightly collected and low to the ground and I was fine. It was just when that damn bedspring came into play that things got really ugly. Seeing that their fearless leader was losing, some random girl grabbed a wire spring that had long ago been pulled out of one of the mattresses and tossed it to Olga, who promptly sliced the sharp end right down my face. As soon as I saw the blood, I went ballistic. I was so angry, I don't remember much. I remember shrieking at the top of my lungs, trying to strangle Olga, then being pulled off of her by a few guards, and then kicking one in the nuts. Then it all went black.  
  
"So dat's how I ended up heah," I said aloud. I looked around me and saw a small, dank room with only a toilet and the cot I was laying on. There was a small window (with bars) near the ceiling. I figured I must be in the basement or something. "Dis must be solitary," I said. "Dat's just peachy. I been awake less dan five minutes and I'm already starting ta talk ta meself. Dat's even betta."  
  
"Just as long as ya don't start ta answer yourself, you'll be fine," an amused voice said.  
  
I jumped up and looked around me. No one was there. "W-who's dere?" I demanded, trying not to sound as startled as I was. The voice chuckled softly.  
  
"I'm Francis. And who might you be?" it replied. No, *he* replied. The voice was definitely male. A male named Francis. If I hadn't been so scared I would have laughed a little.  
  
"Roach," I said, my voice shaking slightly. I mentally smacked myself for that.  
  
"Roach?!" the voice asked incredulously. "How does a goil end up wit a name like 'Roach'?"  
  
"Me mudda gave it to me. What's it to ya?" I replied, slightly defensive. I liked my name. It was unique.  
  
"Your *mudda* gave it to ya? Wow, she must notta liked you very much," the voice said.  
  
"Nah, she didn't. Said I was a pest she couldn't seem ta get rid of, so she started callin' me Roach. I have a normal name, but I don't rememba it. 'Sides, I like me name. Ain't something ya hear every day. Someone gots a common name, like Jennifer, an ya know five othas wit da same name. But dere's just one Roach." I was babbling now. I have a tendency to do that when I get nervous, and this voice was definitely making me nervous. I was searching all around the tiny room for any place a person could be hiding, but there was absolutely no one in the room except for me.  
  
"So...um...are ya a ghost, or what?" I asked nervously, giving up on my search to locate the source of this disembodied voice. The voice chuckled softly again.  
  
"Nah, go to da right corner of da room. Da corner away from da door," the voice instructed. "Get down to da ground and look at da wall."  
  
I did as I was told. As I knelt down beside the wall, I saw a small hole about five inches in diameter in the stone wall. It looked like it had been chipped away a long time ago. This made me smile. Probably some poor lonely souls in the past had made this in an effort to counteract the effects of solitary confinement. I put my face down on the ground, wincing slightly as my stitches came into contact with the cold floor. As I peered through the hole. My blue eyes were met by a set of hazel ones. I could tell their owner was smiling by the way they sparkled and the way they were crinkling at the edges. I smiled back.  
  
"Ah, I see," I said. Then I paused, not sure what to say. "So..uh...what you in for?" I sensed a shrug.  
  
"I was hungry so I stole some food. Wasn't very good at it, so I got caught," came the reply.  
  
"Me too!" I said, smiling again. "And on me boithday, of all days!"  
  
"Yer boithday?" he asked. "How old are ya?"  
  
"Fourteen," I replied proudly. Living that long on the streets of New York isn't that easy and I felt it was quite an accomplishment.  
  
"Hey me too! I toined fourteen about t'ree months ago. Me friends t'rew me a party and everythin'. How 'bout you?"  
  
"Nah," I said. Friends is not a good topic of conversation for me, seeing as how I don't have any. I shifted uncomfortably, revealing my stitches to him in the process.  
  
"Whoa, dat looks like it hoit. Who did dat?" he asked.  
  
"Dat fat sow, Olga up on da goil's floor. She got pissed cuz I was beatin' the stuffing outta her, so she sliced me."  
  
"Bitch," he said. "Well, don't worry. It don't look like it'll leave too bad of a scar. 'Sides, scars give you character." He smiled a bit again.  
  
"I like scars, actually. Kinda like souvenirs. Reminders a where I been and what I done. One thing nobody can take from ya," I said, a little more sadly than I had intended. I could tell his smile had disappeared and he now looked at me with eyes far older than his fourteen years. Life on the street does that to you, but to tell the truth I'd rather live my life than be some rich guy's pampered pet, without a thought in my head. My life is so much more interesting.  
  
"Scars and memories..." he said softly, his eyes still boring a hole into mine.  
  
"Well, scars and memories unless someone whaps you a good one on da head. Den it's just scars," I said, trying to lighten the mood. It worked. The twinkle returned to his eyes and he chuckled a little.  
  
"So," I said, changing the subject, "what got ya t'rown in solitary?"  
  
"Ah, you know how Snyda neva feeds us right and how he steals money dat's supposed ta go ta takin' care a us? Well, I started ta get da udda kids ta try and get him ta give us what we desoive. Said it was disruptive behavior, so he t'rew me in here. Dat bastard gave me anudda t'ree months on me sentence too. Said I was just like..." He stopped abruptly, looking away.  
  
"Just like what?" I asked. Normally I wouldn't pry if someone obviously didn't want to talk, but something about this boy made me want to know more. He looked back up at me and sighed.  
  
"Said I was just like me fadder. I *ain't* like me fadder. I'll never be like me fadder. 'Bout da only thing we got in common is dat we's both in jail at da moment. But not for long. I got a plan," he said, adding the last part in a conspiratorial whisper.  
  
"Oh yeah? How ya gonna get out?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.  
  
"Well, every day Snyda makes sure I get stuck on kitchen duty, cuz he knows I hate it. Well, I hoid Teddy Roosevelt is commin' for a visit and he should be heah right when I go on duty. I'm gettin' out da same way I've gotten in before. Unda da carriage. Da courtyard where dey take da carriages is right near da back door of da kitchen. Dey'll never know 'till it's too late." He smiled again.  
  
"Hey, dat's great! Listen..." I was going to add something about maybe getting me out with him when we heard footsteps in the hall.  
  
"Cheese it, dey're makin' da rounds," he whispered.  
  
We both got up and I quickly walked over to my cot and laid down. I heard the door to Francis's cell open and a gruff voice say "Move it, Sullivan, the warden wants to speak with you about this little rumor you've started about the misappropriation of funds."  
  
"Misappropriation of funds". Interesting terminology. He probably wants to threaten the poor kid or something to make sure Teddy doesn't get wind of his embezzling. Everyone knows he does it. I snorted cynically. Everyone except those that could stop him, that is.  
  
By the time Francis was returned to his cell, I was already asleep, so we didn't get the chance to talk. He was also gone when I woke up. I peeked through the hole and called his name a couple times. When there was no answer, I sighed and wearily lay back down on my cot, figuring that last night's conversation would be the last I ever heard of Francis. I dozed on and off through out the day and was in the middle of a great dream that night when a steady, yet soft tapping brought me back to consciousness. I looked around for the source of the tapping, and found it was coming from the small window up near the ceiling. I dragged my cot over and opened it. It was Francis!  
  
"What are you doing heah? I thought you was gonna escape?" I said softly. Now that I could see more of him than his eyes, I couldn't help staring. He was cute, in a dirty ragamuffin sort of way.  
  
"I came back for ya. Couldn't leave ya here, 'specially since you didn't even get a boithday party." He smiled.  
  
"Well...um...how am I supposed to get t'rew dese bars? I mean, I'm skinny, but not *dat* skinny," I said. He smiled wider.  
  
"Dat's where *dis* comes in," he replied, holding up a small saw. He set to work on the bars and quickly had them off the window. I quickly started to climb out, with him half pulling me by my shirt collar. He looked around nervously, and we made a mad dash for the front gate. It was locked. I started to hyperventilate. He looked at me and chuckled, noticing my obvious panic.  
  
"Da guard's on rounds. Won't be back for anudder five minutes. We's got plenty of time," he said. And with that, he withdrew a small tool from his pocket and started picking the lock. I didn't ask how he knew where the guard was or how he happened to have the right tool for the job, I just wanted out of there. I heard a small click, and Francis swung the gate open. We took off running like bats out of hell.  
  
Quite a ways later, we leaned against a wall, gasping and laughing. We stood there, panting and grinning like idiots for a while, just looking at each other not saying a word. Then I noticed him looking at me with a different kind of smile on his face. Oh no. I'm not bad looking, and it's a constant source of embarrassment for me the way guys look at me. Like it's so obvious they like what they see. I shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of something to say.  
  
"Um...so I should be going. It's late. Gotta find somewhere ta sleep..." I started. He noticed my change in attitude and stopped smiling.  
  
"Oh, sure. I'm kinda tired too. Hey, listen. If you don't got anywhere ta go, you should come wit me. I'se gonna be a newsie, startin' tomarra, so if you wanna be one too we can go ta da Newsboys Lodgin' House...." he trailed off as he saw my hesitant expression.  
  
"Oh, um...well I got places dat I go regularly, so I'll be alright. But you go ahead. A newsie's a good t'ing ta be." I started backing away slowly. It almost made me sad to leave because of the way he was looking at me. Like he really wanted me to stay. Like I mattered. But I knew if I stayed, he'd want to be my friend. Maybe more than my friend. I couldn't handle that. So I turned and slowly started to walk away. He stood there for a minute, but eventually I heard his footsteps start off in the other direction. I felt bad. I felt like I should say something. Call him back. I spun around and took a deep breath.  
  
"Hey Francis," I called out. He turned to look at me. "T'anks. For everythin'." He smiled at me, a little sadly, and nodded. Then he turned back around and started on his way. I stood there and watched his back until he was out of sight. Then I stood there for a while longer, feeling like I'd just made a huge mistake. I crossed my arms in front of me and hunched my shoulders against the wind and walked off into the cold Manhattan night.  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
